The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,58
instead.”
“McDonald’s will be faster.”
“We’re not in a rush.”
“McDonald’s will be cheaper.”
“It’s my treat.”
“McDonald’s—”
“Jem,” Tean said, his dark eyes soft, “let’s try something new.”
So Jem flopped back in his seat as they pulled into the parking lot for a building marked with big white plastic numbers: 1-8-9. He’d never been to Heber before this week, but it reminded him of the few times he’d been to other rural Utah communities, almost all of them founded by Mormon pioneers. It had a main street lined with small brick and frame homes, strip malls with Beto’s and Wendy’s, a grocery store—in this case, Lee’s, with a brick-and-timber façade—and, of course, a Walmart Supercenter. The restaurant Tean had picked, 1-8-9, was in yet another strip mall, with a grassy berm separating it from an O’Reilly’s.
“In case you need to pick up a spark plug after you get your burger,” Jem said.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said as Tean pulled into the parking stall. “Let’s just try this place.”
Inside, 1-8-9’s décor made Tean think he was ordering burgers in a ski lodge: a high, open ceiling; lots of exposed pine; the smell of searing meat and caramelized onions. A hostess who looked barely sixteen, her hair in pigtails, flashed braces at them and led them to a booth at the back. It was barely five o’clock, but the restaurant was already filling up—lots of families, lots of shrieking kids. A red-cheeked toddler shot toward Jem like a heat-seeking missile, and Jem slid out of the way. A woman, presumably the toddler’s mother, was chasing after him, her own cheeks red, her ankle-length dress billowing behind her. Laughing, Tean caught the toddler under the arms and spun the heat-seeking missile back toward his mother. She smiled, thanked him, and walked the boy back to their table.
As they were sitting down, though, something wiped the laughter from Tean’s face.
“Don’t think about it right now,” Jem said. “Unless—did it ruin your appetite?”
“Oh. No, not really. I’ve seen worse, and, I mean, we have to eat. Did it ruin your appetite?”
“Does it make me psycho if I say no? I mean, it was disgusting and horrifying, but if I let that stop me, I wouldn’t have eaten anything until I was eighteen.”
Tean’s dark eyes shone, and he blinked and looked away.
“Stop,” Jem said. “It was just a joke.”
“I know.”
“That’s all over and done with. That’s why I can joke about it.”
“Right,” Tean said, and then he cleared his throat as their waiter, who barely looked older than the hostess, came over.
The waiter set down menus, introduced himself as Jonah, and asked for their drink orders.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “We don’t have beer.”
He said it like maybe they didn’t have any hardcore pornography or crack cocaine in the restaurant either.
“This is what I was saying,” Jem said across the table.
“You didn’t say anything,” Tean said, still studying the menu. “And McDonald’s doesn’t have beer either.”
“Cokes,” Jem said.
The boy glanced at Tean.
“He’s going to ask for water, so just ignore him and bring him a Coke.”
With a hesitant smile, the boy trotted away. Judging by the wires on his teeth, Jem figured he and the hostess were seeing the same orthodontist. They might have been brother and sister: the same straw-colored hair, the same shape to their mouths. Or cousins. In a place like this, Jem thought, maybe everyone was cousins.
Then Tean got another prowl on his phone. The sound was unmistakable: the roar of a wild animal—a bear, probably, which Tean thought was a little too on the nose. Tean flinched, a dusky color moving under the light brown of his cheeks, and pretended he was still reading the menu.
“Check it,” Jem said.
“I don’t want to check it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s stupid. Do you like onion rings? I thought maybe I’d try one.”
“You’d try one? Wait, does that mean you’ve never had an onion ring? No, stop, you’re trying to sidetrack me. Let’s see who just prowled you.”
“Eh.”
“Maybe he’s cute.”
Tean picked up his menu and held it in front of his face.
“Maybe he’s cute and smart.”
“What about cheese fries? Is cheese really good on fries?”
Jem yanked the menu out of his hand and jabbed a finger at Tean. The doc flinched.
“First of all, I’m tired of having to witness firsthand the absolute, total injustice of your life, at least as far as food goes. Yes, obviously cheese is good on fries. Second, maybe he’s cute and smart and rescued a million puppies from getting turned into coats.”